


All I Want For Christmas Is You

by Mad_Mage



Series: Mage's Christmas specials 2019 [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attempt at Humor, Attraction, Banter, Beware of wolf packs, F/M, Growling Lannisters, Happy Ending, Hear me purr, Irritated big cats, Misunderstandings, Older Man/Younger Woman, Romance, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:41:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21772357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mad_Mage/pseuds/Mad_Mage
Summary: Sansa smiled, her eyes narrowing, lighting up with something deliciously predatory. If he was one of her boys, Tywin mused, he would have been rendered speechless and breathless at the sight of her awakening desire. No longer restrained by their surroundings, he pounced and captured those smirking lips with his own.---Modern AU featuring one misunderstanding, one mutual attraction, two fools disillusioned with love and an awful Christmas party… among other things.
Relationships: Tywin Lannister/Sansa Stark
Series: Mage's Christmas specials 2019 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567441
Comments: 68
Kudos: 203





	1. The Misunderstanding

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the third of Mage’s Christmas specials! This one is Tywin/Sansa and even though there’s nothing much Christmasy about it, I hope you’ll enjoy reading it:)  
> \---  
> Disclaimer: Nothing’s mine, I’m just a poor mad mage.

Tywin noticed her the moment he stepped through the door. The leggy red-head was sitting at the bar, looking lovely in her long blue dress. Her pale skin seemed to glint in the shimmering lights they called Christmas decorations, she was poised and her movements graceful. She was also incredibly young, in her early twenties perhaps.

That could be a problem. What had been Kevan thinking? Didn’t he know what one wrong move could mean for the company? Appearing with some silly little thing on his arm who would embarrass him throughout the evening could harm his reputation more than his disgraceful children ever could.

Observing her for a moment longer, Tywin decided that she would do. The girl was a rare exquisite beauty and he was going to spend only two or three evenings in her company, after all. Tywin was confident that he would manage to keep her from embarrassing him even if she proved to be an empty-headed girl – Christmas parties tended to be rather loud and chaotic and excruciatingly sappy. He had been expecting another tanned blonde nearing her thirties and was therefore pleasantly surprised that the agency had offered someone different. Tywin had been getting fed up with blonde bimbos claiming to have a degree in educational psychology or some other nonsense.

She had to feel his eyes on her and turned her head. Their gazes met and she gave him a small smile before returning her attention to her drink.

Tywin frowned slightly. What’s that supposed to mean? Didn’t she know that she was supposed to approach him now? He would be having a word with Baelish for not going through the usual protocol with the girl.

Well, there was nothing he could do. He had to approach her, then.

***

Sansa noticed Tywin Lannister walking through the door almost immediately. It was hard not to – everyone fell silent for a second and watched as he strolled to the table with the best view of King’s Landing skyline where a bottle of chilled champagne was already waiting.

She had never met him in person, of course, but she knew of him. You couldn’t go through life without ever hearing about the Lion of Lannister who happened to own half of the continent. She also knew two of his children quite well – Cersei had been married to Uncle Robert and Tyrion had flirted with Sansa shamelessly every time they crossed paths – which happened more often than one would guess. But Mr. Lannister? Sansa wasn’t occupying the same circles, not at all; her dad didn’t like the man.

Feeling him observing her, Sansa lifted her head to look at him. Their eyes met across the room and she recognized the appreciative glint in his gaze. It happened to her a lot. If she didn’t react, the men would lose their nerve and wouldn’t approach in the best-case scenario. She knew that she could pull off the intimidating ‘ice queen’ look well. Then there was the worst-case scenario and Sansa was tired of those guys who couldn’t take a hint and still tried to hit on her.

She had given up on dating altogether when she had realized that the men who had the balls to approach her were usually arrogant assholes who expected a quick tumble at the end of the night or babbling besotted buffoons, or brownnosers interested in her father’s favor.

The only ones who could persuade her to go out were her family.

Still, she couldn’t help it and she smiled at the gentleman, but only slightly. Capturing the attention of a man like him made even Sansa’s heart skip a beat. Mr. Lannister was prone to appear in public only with the most stunning of women – but none of those beauties ever lasted long. Tyrion liked to say that his father was picky. Sansa’s more romantic half liked to believe that Mr. Lannister never considered a serious relationship since the death of his beloved wife.

Where was the truth, however, she would never know. She didn’t want to keep Mr. Lannister’s attention and turned away from him. To put it frankly, she wasn’t anybody’s plaything or arm adornment and she wasn’t interested in becoming one of those passing fancies of powerful men.

Taking a sip from her glass of white wine, she smiled wryly to herself. It was a pity for Mr. Lannister certainly wasn’t hard on the eyes even though he must be in his mid-fifties or so…

She felt his presence behind her before she heard his deep commanding voice.

“It’s a good tactic,” he said. “Men must appreciate that you allow them to at least appear like the hunters here.”

“Do I look like prey, then?” Sansa turned her head only partly at him, glancing at Mr. Lannister’s tall form from the corner of her eye. “I’m not sure I like that.”

He sat next to her and shrugged. “No, I don’t suppose you look like a lamb. There’s something about you, my dear, which makes it difficult to imagine you ever being in the role of a damsel in distress.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, then.” Sansa faced him and let her eyes linger.

Mr. Lannister was dressed in a tailored three-piece suit in dark colors. His silk tie and pocket square were a shock of red, his shirt was pristine white, and if she wasn’t mistaken, his golden cufflinks glinted in the light as his hands moved up to rest on the bar.

Sansa was momentarily distracted by those large and perfectly manicured hands. She watched as he linked his fingers. He wore a gold signet ring and ridiculously expensive watch.

“I didn’t mean it as one,” he said. “I’m quite put out at you right now.”

“Oh? What have I done to earn your ire, Mr. Lannister?” Sansa’s lips curled upwards and she devoted all of her attention to his face. His hair was still blond, as was his carefully maintained short stubble, but both were already shot with traces of grey. From up this close, she could see that his eyes were a pale shade of green – and he had tiny little specks of gold in them, naturally. It was almost funny to think that even his eyes reflected the amount of his wealth.

Mr. Lannister raised one of his golden eyebrows at her.

“Haven’t Baelish told you anything, girl?”

Sansa blinked at him and then frowned. It was clear that he didn’t recognize her as one of the infamous Stark brood, so what had Uncle Petyr to do with anything? She hadn’t seen him or Aunt Lysa in months.

“You seemed to be a bright little thing,” he continued a trace of irritation apparent in his voice. “So I have to assume you simply like to play stupid. If we are to pretend to be romantically involved for the foreseeable future, you should call me by my given name in public. Tywin.”

He offered her his right hand and Sansa was too stunned and too well-bred to do anything but shake it.

“Well?” he huffed impatiently. “And your name is, girl?”

“Sansa,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him as the realization suddenly hit her. “Mr. Lannister, I think that there’s been a misunderstanding…”

This time, he was the one who narrowed his eyes as he snatched his hand away and leaned closer. “Really?”

“Most definitely.” Sansa nodded and glared right back at him. She did not appreciate the murderous stare he was leveling at her right now. Taking a deep breath to let him know what she thought exactly, she watched as his expression clouded and he fished his buzzing phone from his pocket.

“Excuse me, Sansa,” he growled and picked it up. She expected him to march away but he simply stayed sitting on the barstool, the phone in one hand while he leaned his other hand on the bar.

“Baelish! Care to explain the meaning of this?”

Sansa watched Mr. Lannister as he fell silent, his eyes widening slightly. A fleeting expression of mortification flitted across his face before he scowled, his gaze never leaving Sansa’s face.

It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. Sansa knew that Uncle Petyr was running a highly profitable escort agency among other things. It wasn’t hard to imagine that Mr. Lannister would obtain Petyr’s services when he was required to make an appearance accompanied by a female. She had just assumed that all those women were Mr. Lannister’s actual love interests – as the majority of the public probably did.

“Stop! Stop, right now!” he barked, finally glancing away from Sansa. “I’m done listening to you. I despise incompetence and the least you could have done was to call me in advance. I don’t think I’ll need your services in the future. Have a good evening, Baelish.”

Sansa heard her uncle’s voice protesting faintly as Mr. Lannister let his hand fall and hung up. He slipped the phone back into his pocket, his shoulders rising as he took a deep breath. Then he glanced back at her, something sheepish entering his expression.

“I suppose that an apology is in order. Please forgive me for my unflattering words and assumptions.”

“You’re forgiven, Tywin.” Sansa took pity on him – he looked uncomfortable and it was clear that he was not used to apologizing. Uncle Petyr was in for it, though.

“If I bought you a drink, would you consider forgetting what you heard?” he asked gruffly and motioned for the bartender to come over. “What will you have?”

Sansa wasn’t finished with her glass of wine so she ordered sparkling water and they remained silent until they had their drinks in front of them. She then watched from the corner of her eye as Tywin knocked back his double scotch and grimaced.

“Well? Should I go and insult you again by asking how much your silence would cost me?” he growled next and turned to face her fully. His posture seemed relaxed but eyes were hooded and he was gripping his empty glass tightly.

Sansa was momentarily rendered speechless. If this was his line of thoughts, he had had to have just as awful experiences with the opposite sex as Sansa. It was no wonder he preferred to pay an outrageous amount of money to Uncle Petyr for a professional who was so tightly bound by their contract that she would be afraid to breathe at the wrong moment.

“I’m not insulted – I’m rather sorry that you feel the need to offer me money for my silence but I…”

“Oh, I’ve found a Samaritan.”

He was grating on her, though. Not amused, Sansa huffed and leaned closer to him, noticing his sharp intake of breath when she did so. “Listen, Tywin Lannister, I’m certainly not happy that you mistook me for an escort and I’m not impressed with that attitude of yours. I was going to say that I understood that certain sorts of people would expect you to buy their silence. I’m not one of them and I truly am sincerely sorry that you had to deal with such people.”

By the end of her monologue, Tywin was focused intently on her lips and she doubted he had heard a word of what she had said. She hadn’t thought he was one of those guys… But then his eyes snapped up and he smirked.

“Well, that’s refreshing. So I should just let you walk away and hope you won’t drag my name through the dirt.”

“Yes, unless you plan to have me assassinated.” Huffing again, she leaned back, her heart hammering uncomfortably and her mouth dry. He smelled too nice for his own good and his wry smile should be illegal. Who did he think he was?

He appeared to consider that option and Sansa shook her head and took a sip of her water. That served her right for arriving early. Where the hell was Jon? She would appreciate a little bit of help right now and her cousin was the best person ever to play a jealous lover. He had gotten her out of similar sticky situations on numerous occasions.

Some guys simply couldn’t take a hint. Some guys, like Tywin fucking Lannister, were contemplating her murder. Sansa had horrible luck. Maybe she should just give up entirely and go live in a secluded monastery.

“You men are so tiresome,” she told him and turned her back on him, sliding down the barstool. She wasn’t a damsel in distress needing her cousin rescuing her. She would just leave on her own. This conversation had reached its end anyway. Echoing his words, she started to walk away. “Have a good evening, Mr. Lannister.”

“Oh, I see!” he called after Sansa. Before she could take one more step, he was standing beside her, hissing into her ear, “Your latest boyfriend stood you up, and here you are, dressed to kill and moping at the bar alone.”

How dare her! Sansa swallowed the initial impulse to slap him and took a deep calming breath before she turned to face him. Tywin was not sporting a victorious smirk, he was glaring at her, challenging her. He wasn’t used to people walking away from him.

“My latest boyfriend took my nude pictures while I was sleeping and threatened to post them online if I didn’t do what he wanted,” she said calmly. “Any other questions, or will you finally leave me alone?”

Tywin’s eyes widened and then he clenched his jaw, bowing his head as he stepped aside. “My apologies, again. I won’t keep you any longer.”

Sansa nodded shortly and swept past him, cursing her quick temper and his ability to annoy her so. No wonder that Tywin had to resort to paying for a company if he was usually this insufferable. Just as those thoughts were crossing her mind, Sansa knew she was being unfair and mean.

Both his apologies seemed sincere and she did not doubt that the Lion of Lannister could be a perfect gentleman when he put his mind to it. Sansa had met his eldest son once and Jaime Lannister was everything charming and suave. She had stepped on Tywin’s toes and he had stepped on hers. From what Tyrion had told her of his father, it was Mr. Lannister’s favorite pastime.

She smirked as she waited for the elevator to take her down. It had been almost fun, sparring with him, and she regretted that she hadn’t made his acquaintance under more positive circumstances.

Only when she was half-way out of the building, she realized that she had left her purse upstairs.

***

Tywin was simply stunned. He couldn’t remember meeting anyone willing to stand up to him and be in the right at the same time. He also couldn’t remember the last time he had been so uncharitable toward a woman who had done nothing to earn his scorn.

The girl had not only held her own against him, but she had also won the match. Enduring an evening or two of this Christmas madness in her company wouldn’t have been a sacrifice. He didn’t doubt that he would have enjoyed it immensely.

Blinking, the Great Lion started to chuckle and turned back to the bar. Her small purse was sitting at the top of it innocently and he frowned. He had managed to upset a young lady to the point that she left her purse behind. His younger son would have a field day with that one.

Sighing, he walked to the bar and glared at the purse.

Tywin knew next to nothing about the girl. Should he try to catch up with her down in the garages? Or was she already gone, taking a taxi home? Well, how would she pay for the taxi if he had her purse?

Oh, he supposed that he was going to pay for the glass of wine as well. 

Drumming his fingers against the polished wood of the bar, he snatched up the purse and made his way out. The staff would simply charge it to his account.

This was the last time when he had left Kevan to deal with Baelish’s agency. If there was going to be the next time, Tywin was overseeing the details himself. He guessed that in a week or two, Baelish would come groveling and offering his most sincere apologies and if Tywin was feeling charitable, he would perhaps continue with their discreet arrangement in future.

He hadn’t been this embarrassed in a long time. It was his damned fault, though, Tywin knew better than to jump to conclusions without having all the facts.

An exciting idea started to form in his mind as he mulled over the last ten minutes.

The elevator door opened on the first floor and there she was; a vision in blue, cheeks flaming and with a strand of fiery hair escaping from that complicated hairdo she wore.

Sansa offered him a wry smile and glanced at the purse in his hands.

“You didn’t need to bother, Mr. Lannister,” she said. “I was about to go back for it.”

“I’m afraid I had to.” Tywin stepped out of the elevator and offered her the purse. “It was the least I could do. Now you can’t say that I’m not gentlemanly… perhaps slightly brusque and utterly foolish but never ungentlemanly.”

She took his words in stride as she seemed prone to do.

“Is this another one of your apologies? You really should work on them, they’re all a bit rusty.” She accepted her purse and offered him a wink. “Well, thank you for that… I’ll be going.”

Tywin followed her, quite unable to let her leave without having his say. “Wait, please.”

“It’s getting late and I don’t think we have anything else to say to each other.” Sansa didn’t seem to be willing to wait. She retrieved her coat and was about to put it on when Tywin grabbed her hands and took it from her grasp.

“May I?”

She allowed him the small gesture as she turned her back to him. He helped her slip into the coat and smoothed his hands down her arms, leaning in slightly to smell her perfume. Not too light or spicy; a perfect combination for an evening out.

“I believe that no one can doubt you can behave like a gentleman when you set your mind to it, Mr. Lannister,” she said, turning toward him, and there was something in her smile that made Tywin smile slowly back.

“Why, thank you, my lady.” He bowed his head and when he straightened, she caught her glancing at his smiling lips. So, he hadn’t imagined that part. It was good to know that he still could interest a woman as a man, not a walking checkbook.

“Was there something you needed, then?” she asked softly and he was glad to note that she wasn’t easily distracted. It was time to put his Lannister charm to good use.

“Yes…” Tywin fell silent, observing her. “Would you do me the great honor and act as my plus one at several excruciatingly boring Christmas parties I’m required to attend?”

Sansa’s eyes widened and her mouth opened but no words came out, so she closed it and shook her head. Then he heard her soft laughter and was sure that while he wasn’t completely forgiven, he was at least out of the doghouse.

“That was the last thing I expected to hear, Mr. Lannister.”

“I believe I asked you to call me by my given name.”

“When you thought I was your paid escort… which I’m not.”

“I am trying to ask you to be my perfectly unpaid date which would also require it.” Tywin hadn’t asked a girl out since he was a young boy; the last woman he had approached like this had been his beloved Joanna. He was only relieved that he wasn’t an awkward teenager anymore and had delivered his request with the ease and confidence of a successful man.

She searched his eyes and for a hopelessly long second, Tywin felt strangely vulnerable. It wasn’t something he was used to feeling and it made him uncomfortable but he refused to shift his weight or break the eye-contact. He hadn’t the slightest idea what she could see in them, or what he wanted her to find there.

“I’m not interested in dating, Tywin. I think you of all people with your apparent disappointing experiences would understand that.”

“I do,” he said, nodding, smiling. “That’s why I’m asking you. You’ve proved that my money doesn’t interest you and that you are witty and intelligent and a woman of integrity. I would greatly enjoy your company, I’m sure, and we can part when the month is over like friends without any obligations.”

She glanced away.

“It seemed to me that you didn’t have any more luck than me in your previous experiences, Sansa. It would also be my greatest honor to show you how a proper gentleman is supposed to treat his date,” he added in a soft tone. 

Tywin was a businessman first and foremost. That required him to be able to understand what people wanted and make them believe that he was offering them exactly that. He could see that Sansa was tempted by his offer. She was young and beautiful and she enjoyed getting all dressed up and going out for a drink… It was a pity that boys these days were unable to appreciate what a rare gem she was.

“I’m not interested in an affair and I won’t expect anything physical between us to happen,” he said finally. Her kind of beauty was irresistible. Tywin felt the pull of a physical attraction between them even now, as he promised not to act upon it. He also understood that she hated how obtrusive her previous partners had been and he was better than that.

Sansa was silent for so long that he had become nervous. She was going to politely decline and he would need to allow Baelish his groveling and then he would be stuck with another blonde bimbo prattling on and on about nonsense that didn’t interest him in the slightest.

“I guess you are going to have me vetted before we do this thing, Tywin.”

He chuckled. She could surprise him and he appreciated that perhaps more than her other qualities. “Yes. I can’t afford not to… but I won’t force you to sign a non-disclosure agreement.”

Her eyes sparkled up at him and she laughed loudly.

“Ok, I think I can put up with you for a month or so. When you have your answer whether or not am I trustworthy enough, you can call me and we’ll go over the rest of the details. Now, I think I’ll really be going. It’s been an eventful evening.”

“I’ll be in touch.” Tywin leaned in, lingered for a moment, and then kissed her cheek. “Goodnight, Sansa.”

Sansa’s eyes were slightly unfocused and he suppressed a smirk when he saw that. Then she smiled right back at him, the light in her eyes promising retaliation. She started to walk away, blowing him a kiss over her shoulder. Her voice was amused as she called, “Sweet dreams, Tywin.”

He couldn’t wait for the first Christmas party of the season.


	2. The Mischief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrion is up to no good, Tywin is in an indulgent mood and Sansa is slightly apprehensive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the second part :) We’ll even get to that promised Christmas party, eventually *winks*

Tywin was a patient man but he hadn’t always been such. There had been times when the Lion of Lannister had been an impulsive young man; a boy who had brawled with his brothers and teased his poor little sister, a youngster who had greatly enjoyed arguing with his father, a youth in love… Before fatherhood, the death of his wife and his role in the family company had tempered his character.

But he now regretted not asking Sansa’s phone number and felt tendrils of impatience wrapping their grubby little fingers around his usually calm and collected mind.

It had been two days since he had met the spirited redhead and he had to confess that he was looking forward to seeing her again, to talking with her. She was something new, interesting, fresh. And he had not asked her damned phone number.

Varys, of course, had been immediately contacted and asked to prepare the usual report on Sansa and to include her contact information in the folder. Even Varys wasn’t a magician who could pull a thick folder about Sansa’s life out of his sleeve, though, and he had needed at least 48 hours.

Tywin was therefore forced to wait and deal with Olenna in the meantime. The Tyrell matriarch took great pride in her ability to grate on his nerves and gods knew she also enjoyed it. Without the Tyrells, the Lannisters’ business would have a hard time expanding into the Reach and the old hag knew that.

Tywin’s waiting was paying off, however. Varys had informed him that the folder would be waiting for him on his desk this morning and that’s where Tywin was headed now, perhaps a little earlier than usual. There was no stopping for a coffee.

He even looked forward to calling her – the verbal sparring was bound to be amusing and Tywin had the feeling it would make his morning routine much more interesting. Not to mention that he was curious about Sansa herself – what kind of family she came from, what he could possibly expect from her.

Tywin paused at the door to his office. He didn’t bother with locking it – everything important was placed in the safe behind his favorite painting of Casterly Rock– but he usually did close the door. Seeing it partly opened was not a good thing.

Had one of Varys’ little birds left it opened? He doubted that. With a scowl, he pushed the door open and strode inside.

His desk was occupied and Tywin’s frown turned into an expression of mild surprise and then annoyance. “Tyrion, what are you doing here?”

His youngest son was lounging on Tywin’s seat, his short legs propped at the edge of the desk, and he played a game on his phone. He didn’t bother to stop playing and only glanced up at Tywin.

“Hello, Father. I’ve been asked to come.”

“By whom?” Tywin stormed closer, cast an inconspicuous look at his desk and the folders there, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Feet off the desk.”

“Yes, yes, feet off the desk and ass off your chair… As you wish, the floor is yours.” Tyrion slipped the phone into his pocket and hopped down from the chair. Grinning, he seated himself in one of the guest chairs and drummed his fingers on the armrest. “By Uncle Kevan, if it’s not obvious enough.”

Tywin took his seat and began sorting through the mess his son’s feet left in their wake. He put the thin folder that hadn’t been there yesterday evening under other papers and then steepled his fingers. “Why would Kevan do that, Tyrion?”

“As you are certainly well aware,” he stated, “I’ve been put in charge of the Christmas party this year... I can’t even begin to express what a great responsibility that is, Father…”

“It’s not my fault that you let your sister bully you into it, Tyrion. You shouldn’t have agreed if you didn’t want to do it.”

“She teamed up with Jaime!”

“And you can’t say no to your older brother, of course.” Tywin sorted and raised an eyebrow at his son. “Do get to the point before the year is out. I don’t have the time to listen to your complains about that – again.”

One would expect their grown-up children to act grown-up. Tywin had no such luck.

Tyrion rolled his eyes and heaved a deep sigh. “Well, alright. Uncle Kevan sent me to remind you that you still need to show up with a date at our own Christmas party at least. Also, we should not forget how insulting your absence would be from the Tyrells’ and the Starks’ events. I’m supposed to make you see reason – as if that can work – and convince you to re-hire that sleazeball Baelish again.”

“I won’t need Baelish’s services. If that’s all why you are here, you can be on your way and do some planning for the damned party, Tyrion. And try not to have topless waitresses hired, please. That would give your good Uncle Kevan a heart attack.”

“Only Uncle Kevan? You would let me get away with that?” Tyrion seemed curious and Tywin gave him a blank stare.

“What do you think, my son?”

“That there wouldn’t be enough left of me to identify the body?”

“Hm-hmm.”

Tywin shared a smirk with his youngest son. From all of his children, Tyrion took after him the most – but he was also, unfortunately, a lot like Tywin’s father Tytos; an irresponsible philanderer. There was hope for his boy still, though, as he seemed to be growing out of those habits at least slightly in recent years.

“Well, then, I’ll be going.” Tyrion jumped down from the chair with a shrug and another grin. “My mission of bringing up a little bit of Christmas cheer into your office is doomed to fail, it seems. It’s a pity. I would love to see you in a better mood, Father.”

“Do not worry about my mood too much, Tyrion.” Tywin nodded at him, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. In moments like these, the man in front of him turned back into the small little boy who had loved to toddle after his parents wherever they had gone.“I believe I shall live.”

“I still think you need more excitement in your life, Dad,” he said, winked at him and then waddled to the door. “And that’s why I’m the gods’ gift to mankind. I’m here to provide fun and excitement to all, especially during the holiday season. See you later!”

With a cheerful wave, his son was gone and Tywin rolled his eyes. When the door clicked shut, he waited for a few moments and then reached for the folder from Varys, a small smile still hiding in the corners of his mouth.

It didn’t last, however, and Tywin growled as soon as he opened the folder and stared at the first completely blank page. He sorted through the papers – all of them except the very last one were also blank.

Tightening his jaw, he stared at the last sheet of paper. It contained a message written in Tyrion’s flowery handwriting.

_ Sorry, I couldn’t resist snooping around a bit. Imagine my surprise when I found a report on a young beautiful woman from our dear Spider. Good taste, Dad! Me approves and I think I know why there’s no need for Baelish and his blondies anymore… So I went and switched the actual report with blank pages. It’s going to be much more fun to get to know her the old-fashioned way, don’t you think? To put your mind at ease, though, the girl is ‘safe to be seen with’ and ‘of impeccable background’ as Varys said, so don’t worry about that. Her number’s on the other side in case you don’t have it. _

_ I promised you a more exciting holiday season, didn’t I? _

_ Love Tyrion _

The only reason why Tywin didn’t crumple the paper immediately was Sansa’s number on the other side. He quickly copied it into his phone and then made a nice ball out of the message and threw it into the trash.

For a moment, Tywin considered calling Varys and asking for another copy but then he thought better of it. He didn’t wish to look like a fool – what kind of person would misplace such an important and not to mention compromising piece of information? And admitting the truth that he had been a victim of his son’s practical joke was probably even worse.

The chuckle forced its way out quite unexpectedly and Tywin snorted as he shook his head. It was Christmas so he would indulge his son’s infantile side just this once. He would get Tyrion for this later but his youngest son had been right. There was something undoubtedly thrilling about the idea of getting to know Sansa better in the old-fashioned way – and Tywin was an old-fashioned guy, after all.

Every new revelation would be another small victory in their battle of wits. She did deserve better than a cheap impersonal report about the state of her life. He already knew about Sansa’s bad experiences with past lovers. Her dress and accessories had let him know that she came from money and her family quite frankly couldn’t be more embarrassing than his own anyway.

***

It had been two days since Sansa had met Tywin in person and she wasn’t entirely sure if she wanted him to call or not. On one hand, being in his presence had been exhilarating, the very idea of repeating it made her heart beat faster – and then there was the other hand. Her family would not be happy to see her dangling from Mr. Lannister’s arm not to mention the field day the press would have the moment they would catch a whiff of an affair like that. 

Sansa doubted that there could be a third hand, but she should not forget about the dislike the elder Lannisters had for the elder Starks. If it weren’t for Uncle Robert’s marriage to Cersei, their families would cross paths only during social functions and interact minimally.

So, his silence was both a good and a bad thing and Sansa was rather angry at herself for not making up her mind about that.

Then her phone rang at eight in the morning on the third day. She glanced at the screen and seeing an unknown number, she dived for it, cursing herself for the enthusiasm at the same time.

“Yes?” she asked, a little breathlessly, and sincerely hoped that the person on the other end of the line wouldn’t notice.

“Sansa, hello. This is Tywin.” His voice sent shivers down her spine and she slowly sat back at her kitchen table, leaning her cheek against her palm and smiling.

“Hi. I honestly didn’t expect you to call.” It wasn’t a lie entirely, right? She must have impressed him if he was willing to overlook that Ned Stark was her father. It made her smile widen and she couldn’t even scold herself for it. It wasn’t like she wanted Tywin to like her, was it? Truth to be told, she did. Having someone like her despite her father – not because of him – was a refreshing novelty.

“It was either you or Baelish and we both know my opinion on that man.”

Sansa managed to suppress the snicker trying to escape. If Dad and Tywin ever needed to be in the same room for more than three minutes, they could always share their dislike for Uncle Petyr. Sansa personally liked him – he had always been the fun uncle allowing the Stark brood too much sugar and sweets and pizza for late-night snacks and he had never told on them when he had caught them smoking or drinking underage (Petyr had, however, confiscated the booze and cigarettes and advised them not to do that).

“I see. So, are you going to invite me to some fancy Christmas party, then?”

“That’s one part of the plan, my dear.” Sansa shivered again at the purr in his voice. Had he intentionally done that? Bastard.

“What exactly is the rest of the plan?”

“I will pick you up at seven tomorrow evening and we will make our way to the Highgarden where my business partners hold their ridiculously themed Christmas party.”

“Oh, the roses,” she said, sighing, and grimaced. She hadn’t planned to attend that party and Margaery knew that and supported her decision not to go and planned to offer Sansa’s deepest apologies. The Tyrells also happened to be Dad’s business partners and Olenna Tyrell had decided that Sansa must marry her grandson. It didn’t matter that Sansa wasn’t interested in a relationship with anyone – or that Loras was gay. Only a handful of people dared to defy Olenna and she was used to getting her way.

There was a brief silence on the other end before Tywin continued, “Yes, I see you are well-acquainted with the Tyrell tradition. It’s unfortunate but I am obliged to attend. If I could, I would choose a different event as our first public appearance together.”

“Poor you,” Sansa murmured, wincing in sympathy. Tywin sounded genuinely remorseful and she couldn’t blame him. Her parents were also going which he surely knew as well. It seemed that a scandal was inevitable.

“Are you certain about our agreement, Tywin? I won’t be offended if you decide to back off.” If she was afraid of the likely reaction, how was it possible that Tywin wasn’t? Sansa felt like she needed to stress it out at least once – she wouldn’t be the one to take the blame for the possible backlash. She wasn’t responsible for her family’s actions… Then she shook her head. Tywin wasn’t one of her lousy immature boyfriends. He wouldn’t try to make her feel guilty for that, she was certain that it was beneath him.

He was mulling over her words in silence for several seconds. She heard his breathing, calm and steady, and then he growled, “Is the very idea of being seen with me causing you so much distress, my dear? Are you thinking about your reputation?”

“Mine can take it.” She had dated Ramsay Bolton and if that hadn’t damaged her reputation, she doubted anything could. “Can you say the same?”

“Being seen with a young and beautiful woman is hardly going to damage my public image, Sansa.”

“So we are truly going to do this, then?” she pressed. His dislike of the Starks wasn’t a secret. Coming to think of it, pretending to be a couple for two or three events might be even fun. Sansa and Tywin would probably end up dryly commenting on other peoples’ hilarious and completely wrong assumptions throughout the evenings.

“Yes… Now, don’t be offended, I feel obliged to ask,” he said in a deep voice. “Seeing that I’m calling you at such short notice, do you require assistance in obtaining any dresses or accessories for the evening? I can arrange for everything…”

“And deck me in gold from your famous mines, Mr. Lannister?” Sansa chuckled. “I thought we covered that I’m not after your money… or are you going for another Pretty Woman analogy here?”

His huff of laughter was unexpected. It was such a pleasant sound – one she wouldn’t have expected from a man whose heart was supposedly only a cold chunk of gold. She wouldn’t mind hearing it again in person, watching if the smile made it to his eyes.

“No, but I’m familiar with women and the fact that they never seem to have anything to wear. I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

“I can get my own dresses just fine, Tywin,” she scolded him gently. “Do you think we should match? What color should I wear?”

It seemed that Sansa was making a habit of making Tywin speechless for there was yet another silence for a few moments. When he answered, his voice was even deeper than before, “Why, I’d want you in red, Lannister red.”

It was the tone and timbre of his voice – that was surely the reason why Sansa’s mind strayed. She closed her eyes and could picture herself in a red dress – but she could clearly see herself out of it, the expensive fabric crumpled on the floor next to a Lannister red tie with its owner doing his best to get out of his pristine white dress shirt, his green eyes burning with desire…

“I won’t be able to get such a dress in time for tomorrow,” she said and her own voice had a breathy quality to it, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. Now she was definitely lying but Sansa was shaken by the path her thoughts had taken. They had already agreed not to go in that direction and she would be damned if she would wear a dress which had sparked such a reaction within her.

It was one thing to flirt with Tywin Lannister when she knew that nothing more would happen between them. It was something entirely different agreeing to an evening out with these stupid ideas playing havoc with her thoughts and feelings.

“What a pity.” She could swear that there was a note of disappointment in Tywin’s response. “What color do you suggest, then?”

“It’s a Tyrell affair and I was thinking something green and earthy, so I can match their garden theme.” Sansa managed to recover her wits and opened her eyes, blinking several times. It would also bring out the color of his eyes perfectly.

“I refuse to wear Tyrell colors but I might be persuaded into green cufflinks if that will satisfy your need to match.” His words made her smile. Nobody would probably notice the cufflinks since Mr. Lannister would most likely go for the traditional black-tie look anyway, Sansa was content to know that this little gesture would be just for her.

“I can live with that.”

“Then I shall see you tomorrow evening, my dear,” he promised and Sansa echoed his words happily before she realized what she was doing. She was looking forward to seeing him just as much.

***

Tywin had asked Tyrion for Sansa’s address which his son so graciously provided and promised to see them at the party. He didn’t like Tyrion’s obvious gleeful manner – the boy was up to something – but decided to talk to him after the party was behind them. Tywin had more important things to focus on – namely a certain redhead who was a vision in her green dress.

As promised, Tywin wore dark green jade and gold cufflinks and he showed them to Sansa, coaxing a delighted laugh out of her.

“It seems we are matching after all.” Sansa moved aside her silk wrap to reveal a delicate gold necklace with a small nephrite stone resting against the hollow of her throat. She wore a pair of matching earrings, of course.

“What a well-matched pair we make, my dear.” Tywin reached for her hand then and brought it to his lips, smirking. “Allow me to say that not even all jade in the world could equal your beauty, Sansa.”

“I see you are truly determined to be the ultimate gentleman tonight, Tywin. Thank you for the compliment.” Sansa’s responding smile lit up the whole interior of the car. “I have to say I looked forward to more of our verbal sparring but I can get used to this instead.”

“I believe we could redirect our sharp wits to other unsuspecting victims… it’s a Tyrell party, after all, there will be plenty of targets – the hosts included.”

Sansa squeezed his fingers gently as she chuckled and Tywin realized that he had not released her from his hold yet. Her hand was much smaller than his, her fingers delicate and her skin soft. He was surprised to note that he didn’t want to relinquish the contact, so he placed it on his thigh and kept his palm over the back of Sansa’s hand.

They exchanged small talk but as they got closer to the Highgarden – the ostentatious and ugly HQ of Olenna’s agricultural empire – Twin noticed something strange. Sansa was apprehensive.

The tone of her voice remained light, as was her expression, but her eyes lost some of their sparkles. She inadvertently gripped his hand once or twice and she seemed tense.

Tywin frowned as he observed her from the corner of his eye. She was nervous about the reactions their appearance together would bring, wasn’t she? She had already let it slip during their brief call yesterday and Tywin cursed himself for not giving enough weight to it.

“You truly fear a scandal,” he said slowly and raised his hand to touch her cheek, careful not to mess up her make-up. The touch startled her – as it had startled him. A spark of electricity raced through him at the contact which he ignored for now.

“That obvious?” He wasn’t certain but he could swear that he felt her leaning into his palm for a moment before she tried to smile, her soulful eyes watching him intently.

“I’m afraid so.”

Tywin moved his hand, slipped it to grip the back of her neck slightly, and for a moment considered pulling her close and completely messing up her make-up and smudging the red of her lipstick. Now the press would kill for pictures of the Lion of Lannister and his date in such a state.

Sansa was almost asking for it; she marginally leaned towards him, her eyes flicking down to his mouth. He heard her breathing in shakily and then watched, fascinated, as the tip of her tongue darted out, wetting her lower lip.

“How long until we arrive?” she asked then, averting her gaze with a faint reddening to her cheeks. It was delightful. She was delightful.

Tywin heaved a sigh, both thankful and strangely disappointed when she had broken the spell. He was starting to doubt the whole idea of them attending several events together. Christmas parties tended to be loud and chaotic but his ability to keep hands to himself had been seriously compromised. Tywin had never treated his previous companions in such a way, he certainly hadn’t had these thoughts about them.

They had been professional escorts, bought for one specific purpose – to accompany him as a pretty arm adornment. Sansa? It wouldn’t work with her. Tywin had been in her presence only briefly yet the spark was undeniable. She was so much more than a beautiful accessory. 

She was dangerous and he disliked the idea that he could be endangering his reputation and his company’s standing in this very moment, sitting so close to the alluring creature.

“Only a few minutes. Will you manage it? Or would you like to call this charade off?”

It would be for the best, Tywin knew that. Sansa’s hesitancy and Tyrion’s practical joke warned him. She expected Tywin to know everything about her by now and she was still apprehensive about the reception their arrival would receive. Why? Because of her own prominence, it was as simple as that. He should have asked Varys for a copy – or better yet, he should have told Tyrion to return the report.

Clenching his jaw, Tywin looked out of the window as Sansa remained silent for a moment. He would be having a serious discussion with Tyrion. If the boy had played him for a complete fool for his own amusement and had endangered the good name of the company, there would be consequences.

“I haven’t told my parents about accompanying you. They will be there,” Sansa said and glanced at him. “I’m sure they won’t cause a scene but the meeting could be unpleasant.”

Tywin turned to look at her – at her downcast eyes, her grimace. The impulse rose in him like a tidal wave and he reached out and tilted her face upward, carefully observing her.

Would knowing her name change the fact that Sansa was the most interesting woman he had met in the last two decades? He doubted that. Her last name wouldn’t also change the fact that she was attractive – gorgeous – and alluring, clever and cautious, thinking about not only hers but his public image as well.

Tywin had no illusions about the picture he portrayed to the public and any and every of his companions had been silently judged simply by association with him. The undeniable advantage of being an escort was that these women all faded into the background quickly. In this instance, Tywin wasn’t the only one risking a scandal – Sansa herself was facing the scorn for being his possible lover, and the rumors would be much more vicious to her than ever to him.

It was stupidly brave of her, risking it, and it showed how young she truly was.

The car stopped. Outside, a storm of flashes started and as the door opened, a cacophony of noises filled the air.

This was their last chance to back out. It was the most logical thing to do – they weren’t even a couple, there was no reason why Tywin should go and risk the possible damage gossips could cause. Yet something told him that he would regret not stepping out of the car with Sansa and he wouldn’t be the man he was if he didn’t trust his instincts.

Tywin made a split-second decision and offered his hand to Sansa palm up. “I’m sure that we will manage to have a good time regardless. Come, my dear. The floor is ours. Let’s give them something to talk about.”

Sansa didn’t hesitate as she took his hand and plastered a brilliant smile on her face. In her eyes, he could see that at least a tiny part of it – the part he reserved for himself only – was genuine.

***

As soon as they exited the car, the press went wild and the flashes almost blinded her. Sansa wasn’t easily intimidated by them but the whole experience was different from her usual encounters with paparazzi. It was insane, the amount of interest she and Tywin generated.

He was by her side, his warm hand resting at the small of her back as he ushered her along, his face expressionless and eyes promising retribution if even one person tried to ask him any questions or – gods forbid – step into their way.

They made it quickly inside, shed their coats and were soon mingling with the other guests on the upper floors. Sansa hated the Highgarden – the whole building was so pretentious it was almost painful to see – but she dutifully leveled polite smiles at the people they were meeting.

So far, she hadn’t met a familiar face but the evening was still young and her parents would sooner or later make an appearance – and Margaery and Loras were certainly around.

People seemed to be flocking to Tywin intending to suck up to him and only the occasional tightening of his eyes betrayed how some of those people annoyed him. Several of his acquaintances also seemed interested in her but Tywin ignored their pointed glances and Sansa offered only a small talk about the weather, not her name.

It was one extremely torturous hour. Sansa wasn’t sure what was worse – the people or the rose decorations. There was no sight of anything reminding them of Christmas which she personally thought should not be missing from a Christmas party.

“Don’t tell me you have to suffer through this every time you make a public appearance,” she told Tywin when they slipped away from the crowd and escaped to the balcony.

Tywin smiled wryly, his eyes flashing in the semidarkness as he shrugged off his jacket and put it around her shoulders. The moon was bright tonight but partly hidden behind heavy snow clouds. His answer was clipped – a testament to his foul mood – when he replied, “More or less. Once Olenna deems to grace us with her presence, she would take the spotlight as the hostess of this ridiculous party. When the dancing starts, we can ignore the imbeciles completely. Have you spotted your parents or anyone familiar, my dear?”

“Not yet.” She shook her head, snuggling closer into the warmth of his jacket. It smelled of Tywin’s cologne and she had no doubt that some of it would remain clinging to her own skin – just as traces of her perfume would find their way to him.

The idea of their mingled scents was doing unspeakable things to her insides. Sansa was quite willing to admit that she was impressed by Tywin Lannister more and more with every second she spent in his presence. In the car, she had thought he would kiss her. She had even hoped that they wouldn’t make it to the party at all.

Never before had she been drawn to a man like this – he made her blood sing with excitement and she was very close to the point when she would just melt into a hormonal puddle at his every touch. It was illogical because he had been a perfect gentleman so far, his hand only grazing Sansa’s arm when he had wanted to get her attention, or settling on the small of her back as he guided her through the throng of people, never strayed somewhere where it wasn’t supposed to be.

“Are you alright? Shall we return inside?” Tywin asked next and stepped behind her. For the briefest of moments, Sansa thought that he would put his arms around her but that was a stupid thing to hope for. He wouldn’t do such a thing in public even if their evening out wasn’t an arrangement between allies. Sansa was right – he simply adjusted the jacket on her shoulders, freeing a strand of her hair from underneath the heavy fabric.

“Just a moment, I need to catch my breath before rejoining the fray.”

He chuckled and stepped even closer still. She could feel the warmth of his body seeping into her back and it took a great deal of concentration not to lean into him.

“I will make it up to you, my dear.” His voice grumbled.

“By bringing me to another terrible Christmas party?”

“There are only two more I can’t get away from – my own company’s and the Starks’. I can promise you that no one would dare to annoy me on my own home ground…”

“And I can promise you that no one would dare to annoy you on mine – not with the whole wolf pack in attendance,” Sansa said, chuckling and shaking her head in a vain attempt to clear it.

Her hair caught against his chin and she heard him breathe in sharply and then exhale slowly, tickling her neck. Was Tywin really standing so close to her? Then, his arms unhurriedly and deliberately moved around her. He was giving her enough time to step away from him but Sansa didn’t. She lowered her head instead and gazed down, watching as he wrapped his arms around her torso, his touch light and gentle but firm.

“I meant that perhaps you and I could meet in a less formal setting, my little wolf,” he whispered into her ear. “Without the sharks circling and without any family members we want to strangle on the spot lurking about.”

Sansa gave up her fight and leaned against him, closing her eyes as she felt his arms tightening around her, bringing her closer. He was so tall, so warm. “You seem to be asking me out on a regular date, my dear lion.”

“Hm-hmm.” Tywin purred and hummed. “Asking you out? You certainly must be mistaken… unless the answer is yes.”

Sansa let his words wash over her. Tywin Lannister had just asked her out. The man who was embracing her from behind, into whom Sansa was leaning quite contently, wanted to see her outside of their strange little arrangement.

She had known of him for her whole life but she had met Tywin only three nights ago. Sansa had spent a total of one hour in his presence. Yet he smelled so good and she hadn’t ever felt such a magnetic pull to any of her previous love interests. He was larger than life, a forceful and influential man whose presence had already left a lasting impression on her.

She should say no but Sansa didn’t want to leave the thing between them unexplored. There was a connection. Maybe it would never be anything more than a strong attraction and that was fine. Maybe it would be something wonderful.

Sansa hesitated. How many times had she been hurt when she believed that the man in front of her had been sincere? But she didn’t want to think about them. She wanted to think about Tywin who hadn’t asked a woman out in ages. If he was willing to risk it with her, so could she.

“Okay,” she agreed with a pounding heart and a smile blooming over her face. “I’d like that.”

“Good.” Tywin nuzzled her neck and Sansa shivered when she felt the short stubble on his chin tickle her skin. He had found a most sensitive spot for that and by the way he paused and then repeated the exact same motion, she was certain that he realized that as well. She could feel him smiling against her neck.

They remained like that for several more moments and then bravely went back to the party. This time, Tywin’s arm was securely wrapped around Sansa’s waist, and he did not relinquish the contact unless forced to – and then she could feel at least his hand on the small of her back.

She managed to hide her smile most of the time. For two people adamant about not dating, they did a poor job of holding to their resolves around each other, didn’t they?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, we managed to arrive at the Tyrells’ party! Yay! Four thousand words in and these two were still rather focused on each other. I was really afraid that they wouldn’t make it there *chuckles*  
> So, what do you think, guys? I decided to go for a normal family dynamics between our favorite lions in this story but after that stunt? Will Tyrion survive or is Tywin all out of indulgence? And our well-matched couple will have the wolf pack to deal with, too… My, my, that should be interesting…
> 
> Next time in All I want: How does it all end?  
> Next in the series: Chapter three of Jingle Bells


	3. The Accord (I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tywin and Sansa reach an accord, meet with some familiar faces, and enjoy the benefits of each other’s company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suppose that late is better than never? *hides behind her dogs sheepishly* Hope you enjoy the first part of the last chapter ;)

He inhaled sharply. So he found himself alone, secluded with a little wolf at his hands. Tywin’s mind sped through the possible consequences of starting something with Sansa  _ Stark _ – gods must be laughing somewhere, quite hysterically – and then he slowly wound his arms around her, breathing in the sweet smell of her skin and her perfume.

Was this alluring, fascinating creature the daughter of Ned Stark? She must take after Catelyn because Sansa was nothing like the rest of her family. She did not evoke in him the urge to roll his eyes every ten seconds of their conversation... The reactions Sansa evoked in him were much more fun - so much so that he was willing to overlook who her father was. It was obvious that her family did not define her choices and she had chosen to be here with him tonight, well aware of what it would mean. Tywin was not going to be any less courageous than his little wolf.

Also, dating a Stark wasn’t the worst-case scenario for his image unless the thing between them would backfire spectacularly. Her family was loved by most of the public – the honorable, dependable, and hard-working Starks were making sensational headlines only occasionally. That thought actually made him pause briefly as he tried to remember which of the young Starks had the habit of making the headlines. Something told him that it was the one currently in his arms – her luck with those  _ boys _ had been not only bad but absolutely terrible.

Good thing that he wasn’t a green boy but a man. Tywin was smugly aware that none of her previous love interests could possibly compare to him in anything.

He was going to kill his son, of course, but Sansa’s family name did not stop him from voicing his previous thoughts. The idea of getting to know her without pretenses was thrilling and it had been hiding in his mind perhaps from the moment Tyrion had made his suggestion of doing it the old-fashioned way.

Asking a woman out on a real date was a novel experience for Tywin but it seemed that with Sansa, novel experiences were bound to happen. The Great Lion smiled inwardly as he felt her leaning into him. He was rather looking forward to any and all novelty the little wolf would bring him.

When they rejoined the party, Tywin was more comfortable to stake his claim on this precious fiery woman and kept his arm wrapped around her whenever possible. If his lips curled up from time to time when he noticed the stares, he kept the amusement hidden very carefully. Never before had he been so open about the type of relationship he had with his date. Of course, never before there actually had been a relationship and Tywin wanted to make things clear for everyone who was watching that Miss Stark was here with him and he had every intention of having her around for the foreseeable future.

The number of stares his beautiful companion generated from those young fools who were drooling over themselves surely had no bearing on Tywin’s decision to be more demonstrative.

Sansa, who was rather successfully hiding a smile of her own, leaned against him when the opportunity arose. Her back was touching his chest lightly and Tywin was content to let his hand wander. It slowly glided from its resting place at her waist all the way down to her hip and then unhurriedly back up to her stomach. There, he splayed his fingers and encouraged her to lean into him more firmly.

Her breathing shortened and as she pressed against him more firmly, he could feel the shiver his touch had caused running through her body deliciously.

“Are you trying to cause a scene, my dear lion?” Sansa said, turning her head slightly to look up at him, thus offering him a look at the hollow of her throat. Her heart was racing and Tywin spent the next second calculating how rude it would be of him to whisk Miss Stark away right now. But no, he had promised Sansa to show her how a proper gentleman treated his partner. Embarrassing them both by a quick and early departure would not do.

Leaning down to lightly scratch the pale skin of her neck with his chin, he purred, “Perhaps I am. Are you scared, little wolf?”

Sansa grabbed at the hand on her stomach and Tywin was delighted to note that her knees buckled under her. “You wicked man.”

“I’m so glad to see you two are enjoying the party!” Tyrion’s voice cut through the moment. Sansa immediately straightened and took a step away from him. Tywin growled at the back of his throat, masking it as an attempt to clear it, and they both turned to the side.

Tyrion was standing there, grinning broadly with a champagne flute in one of his hands and his phone in the other. Had the little imbecile taken a picture of them? Tywin decided that yes, his son was going to be very dead and very soon, indeed.

“Tyrion!” exclaimed Sansa, extracted herself from Tywin’s side and leaned down to kiss his son’s cheek. “Hello, how wonderful to see you!”

“You two know each other?” asked Tywin, his expression carefully concealing his displeasure at both the interruption and Tyrion’s audacity to play such jokes on him. He should have expected something like that, shouldn’t he?

“Of course.” He smirked up at him. “So, I won’t ask how you are. It’s pretty obvious that things couldn’t be better.”

“Yes, the party is nice,” agreed Sansa readily and sent a conspiratorial smile Tywin’s way. Her eyes were dancing and Tywin found himself trying to estimate how much longer they truly needed to stay at the damned party.

“How about you, Tyrion?”

“Splendid, the food is delicious and the champagne excellent… The company heading your way, though, leaves something to be desired. I thought I’d drop by to warn you to keep in mind where we currently are.” With that, Tyrion nodded somewhere behind them and with another grin and a wink disappeared.

Sansa quickly glanced in that direction and paled slightly, a long-suffering look entering her eyes. “Here we go. This is going to be worse than pulling teeth.”

Tywin clenched his jaw as he reached for Sansa’s hand and pulled her back to his side, asking in a low voice, “Do I want to turn around?”

“Sansa, dear!” A voice reached them, loud and obviously not pleased. Tywin heaved a sigh and closed his eyes briefly, feeling Sansa giving his hand a light squeeze. Worse than pulling teeth, indeed. On the other hand, it was probably better to get this over with, and with that thought in mind, the Great Lion of Lannister turned to face their host.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn’t sleep tonight and this is the result. See? I promised to work on my stories and here we are. Now, I’m super exhausted. See you at the Jaime/Sansa update on Thursday *winks*  
> Love, Mage :)


	4. The Accord (II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their evening draws to an end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the rest of Chapter 3 :)

Sansa felt her companion stiffen and there was the briefest pressure at her waist as Tywin pressed her closer to his side for a moment. Sansa had hoped against hope to avoid the notice of their host – but it was inevitable, she supposed. She squeezed his hand and they both turned toward Olenna.

Plastering a broad, excited smile on her face, Sansa returned cheerfully, “Hello, Olenna! How are you?”

“Can’t say just as well as I was a moment ago,” replied the woman in a clipped tone. Olenna Tyrell was a force of nature on those rare days when she decided to be agreeable. Most of the time, however, the Tyrell matriarch liked to be difficult. Her sharp eyes settled on Sansa’s waist where Tywin’s hand still rested. “What the two of you think you are doing?”

It’s called dating – or their version of it, apparently – but before Sansa could respond, Olenna raised an eyebrow and glanced up at the man at Sansa’s side.

“Well, I have to say that I had something entirely different in mind when I told to you to try and remember what it was like to have fun, Tywin.”

Sansa heard him breathe through his nose, jaw probably clenched tightly. Tywin definitely did not appreciate people telling him what to do, and in such a tone, Sansa supposed. She also hadn’t known that Olenna and Tywin were on first-name terms and had spoken recently. Then again, they were business partners and Olenna tended to call everyone younger than herself by their given name. It was the prerogative of her age, as she often reminded the people around her.

“No? What, exactly, had you in mind, then?” asked Tywin, his eyebrows rising as well. Sansa sighed inwardly, knowing that his blithe tone was not going to sit well with the Tyrell matriarch. This was bound to be a disastrous meeting and she was sure she didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire. No one with their brain intact liked to be at the receiving end of Olenna’s displeasure and Sansa had the feeling that Tywin was in a category entirely of his own when he decided to be really unpleasant as well. She had gotten a taste of his ire, after all – and that had been mild.

“Not pawing little girls, certainly,” Olenna said, disapproval dripping from each of her words. She turned her eyes to Sansa and raised her hand in invitation. “Come here, my girl. I’m sure I can help you locate Loras.”

Sansa definitely did not want to go and find Loras but it took her only a second to realize that Olenna was actually _concerned_ for her, even if the older woman managed to hide it masterfully. A man twice Sansa’s age had had hands all over her – a man she had to Olenna’s knowledge never met before and to whom nobody usually dared to say no. Well, Olenna obviously didn’t know either of them very well – but then again, the Tyrell matriarch hardly tried to get to know the people around her and instead forced her own ideas of who they should be on them.

She should reassure Olenna that all was well, and then – just maybe – there wouldn’t be any bloodshed and ruffled feathers and bruised egos.

“Oh?” Tywin wrapped his arm slowly and suggestively around her as those thoughts flitted through Sansa’s mind. Or maybe she should just let Ty take the lead, she decided, liking his approach. But weren’t such open displays something they should at least _try_ to avoid within view of other guests and their host? If they wanted to avoid gossip, of course. They could get away with it for a few moments when nobody seemingly paid attention to them, but this? This was like poking a sleeping dragon in the eye – and Olenna gave the impression that she was about to breathe fire.

The last thing Sansa wanted was to put on a show for Olenna and everyone else – because people were now starting to notice them – but that’s exactly what she did and to her own shock, quite happily. At his urging, she stepped in front of Tywin and let his other arm came around her as well. Sansa briefly glanced down and watched as he clasped his hands together, making sure she wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon – least of all to find other men.

It seemed that he enjoyed holding her like this – which was fortunate because Sansa happened to enjoy feeling his solid presence at her back, the strength of his arms around her, and the smell of his cologne enveloping her.

There was a flash or two. Oh, gods, they’re going to make the front page tomorrow for sure. Sansa was strangely alright with the idea and if Tywin had decided to instigate this whole scene, she was going to at least enjoy the fun. She sighed and made herself comfortable in his embrace. Sinking against his chest when a fresh wave of Tywin’s cologne reached her, Sansa felt a tingle of excitement racing down her spine.

Olenna’s eyes observed the both of them carefully – their body language, their expressions, she even lingered on the necklace Sansa wore and on the matching cufflinks Tywin had. It was obvious that they had very subtly prepared to attend the event together and this little show made sure there was no doubt.

They were here together _together_. The consequences should worry Sansa, she knew they should. It was all entirely too sudden. Just at the beginning of the night, there hadn’t been anything romantic between them – or anything at all, actually. Then Tywin had asked her out and after that, they hadn’t only crossed the line of physical displays of affection many serious couples didn’t dare to cross on functions like this. They had obliterated it. She felt the sparks of their attraction tingle against her skin even as she tried to focus on Olenna, the pull toward this man making it hard to breathe and to think clearly. Tywin suspected, of course, if the smugness radiating off him was any indication and Sansa was rather determined to get back at him.

How long did they have to stay, again? Sansa could imagine that there were better places where they could be at the moment and much more pleasurable things they could be doing than baiting the Tyrell matriarch.

The look of shock on Olenna’s face, however, was priceless. Tywin’s hold around Sansa tightened and he leaned over her shoulder, his lips ghosting against her ear as he asked, “Do you feel like I am pawing you, Sansa?”

“Maybe a little bit.” Her mouth twitched as she answered, raising her head just slightly, brushing her lips against the edge of his jawline. She had also seized the opportunity to press more firmly into the lower half of his body with her backside – purely by accident, of course. His sharp intake of breath let her know that her little mission of retaliation was successful, and Tywin kept her right there so she could feel every rise and fall of his breath and the words rumbling in his chest.

Sansa felt like every inch of her skin was on fire, it was coursing through her veins this scorching, blissful thing. More than a mere attraction, surely.

“Do you mind, little wolf?” Tywin pressed her closer still, purring, and she had to lean against him fully and let him support most of her weight. The wicked man knew perfectly well what he was doing, didn’t he? Did he feel the same fire dancing under his skin? They seemed to be remarkably attuned to each other in this regard, so Sansa had little doubt that he remained unaffected.

“Not really.” They were a well-matched pair, after all.

“If you are going to take things a step further,” Olenna’s expression shifted from disgust to wry amusement all at once as she realized that she was being played, “I think I actually could lose my dinner now…”

“Then I’d suggest to remove yourself elsewhere, Olenna,” growled Tywin. “You did your duty as a considerate host, you spoke your mind, and you can be on your way.”

“Dismissing me at my own party like that!” she cried in mock consternation, delighted. “Only you, Tywin Lannister, can believe you can get away with it!”

“I wouldn’t dare.” Sansa felt the huff of laughter resonate through his chest.

“No, no, I think I’ll stay with the two of you for a little longer. Acting like a teenager is unbecoming at your age, Tywin – and you can trust me, I’m an expert when it comes to age – but if you insist on it, someone has to make sure you won’t drag the poor girl into a broom closet.”

A broom closet? Was she being serious? As if Sansa would allow herself to be subjected to something like that – and she honestly doubted that Tywin would even consider such an action. They were not – contrary to Olenna’s belief – children unable to contain themselves. The thrill of sneaking around to find small and confined spaces had lost its appeal for Sansa long before she had stopped being a teenager.

“We wouldn’t want to keep you to ourselves the whole evening, Olenna,” said Sansa sweetly from the safety of Tywin’s embrace. If there was a mild trace of panic in her eyes, she tried to mask it. Olenna was capable of going through with it, too.

“Nonsense, it’s the least I could do to make sure you are not mauled further by our esteemed lion here,” Olenna smirked. She had always been kind to Sansa – as much as a woman of her caliber could, at least – and Sansa had been resigned to be unofficially included in the Tyrell family as Marg’s best friend and subjected to Olenna’s sharp tongue like the rest of them. There was, however, no way that Sansa would ever become a Tyrell officially. She couldn’t possibly put up with Olenna daily as poor Margaery and Loras had to.

Sansa spared only one second of consideration to her next words and then decided to go for it. “I’m afraid Loras is in a need of some rescuing of his own right now.”

That caught Olenna’s attention and her sharp piercing eyes zoned in on Sansa. “How so?”

“I’ve seen him being all but dragged into one of the offices by Renly,” she replied in a carefully neutral tone. “I’m sure it wasn’t anything serious, but you know how the Baratheons are. They could be arguing just about anything…”

Renly was to Olenna’s official knowledge her grandson’s best friend. They tended to spend an awfully lot of time together. While Loras was quite comfortable sharing the truth with almost everyone, his grandmother wasn’t exactly officially privy to it. Sansa doubted that Olenna had no idea that Loras was involved with Renly. Olenna probably expected that he would eventually settle with a nice young lady – named Sansa Stark, because she liked her – and produce a great-grandchild or two for her to spoil.

“Not in the offices, no!” Sansa watched as Olenna’s eyes widened in outrage and then she pursed her lips. A sly look then flashed across her face as she inclined her head to Sansa. “That was masterfully played, my dear. When you get tired of that old grumbly tomcat, I’m sure I can set you up with a nice young man. But if I get a whiff that you acted inside this building like it was a brothel, there will be hell to pay. Behave yourselves!”

With those words, Olenna Tyrell departed and Sansa was left with an unpleasant thought that she resembled a shark scenting blood in the water. Shivering at the mental image it produced, she closed her eyes and rested the back of her head against Tywin’s shoulder.

“Have you just thrown the poor Tyrell boy under the bus?” His chuckle enveloped her in warmth. It wasn’t something Sansa was proud of doing – especially since she had not seen Loras yet at all – but she needed to get rid of Olenna.

“He should have been truthful with his grandmother in the first place,” she sighed. “That was not as bad as I thought, but I still feel like we have just barely escaped with our lives intact.”

“Hm-hmm.” Tywin nuzzled her exposed neck, his stubble scratching the sensitive skin and sending shockwaves through her body. He had noticed her partiality to that, so of course, he would take advantage of it. His lips brushed the same spot as he whispered, “Olenna has always liked to make a nuisance of herself. She derives pleasure from it.”

“Pleasure. What a word, Tywin,” Sansa breathed and was tempted to turn her own head, to meet his lips with her own. The idea of a broom closet did not sound half as scandalous as it had a minute ago. It occurred to her that they hadn’t shared a proper kiss yet. All the touches and displays of certain possessiveness on his part which she had graciously allowed… And yet, Sansa had no idea what Tywin’s lips tasted like. Would they taste of champagne or perhaps scotch? Or would it be something entirely different? Would they be soft? “What do you derive pleasure from, my dear lion?”

Ah, yes. Tywin wasn’t the only one displaying a certain amount of possessiveness, she realized giddily. But he was, wasn’t he? A lion who happened to be hers right now – for this night, and for that promised date… And, perhaps, for a little longer than that. She had had her fair share of dates and nights that were good – excellent, even – but the days in between with the boys she had dated had never been something she would want to remember. With Tywin, every second seemed to be worth remembering. He wasn’t a mere boy. He was a man who damned well knew what he wanted – and he seemed to want her, their good names and reputations be damned.

The last thing Sansa could afford was a whirlwind romance with a man like him. Yet it seemed that’s exactly what she was about to get. Although she should be careful to place any labels on the thing between them, it held a lot of appeal to her. Calling Tywin Lannister hers, contending with the Great Lion on a daily basis would make her life more interesting, thrilling.

“Right at this moment?” he asked her idly. One of his hands stayed at her abdomen, the other moved up, his fingertips slowly grazing the length of Sansa’s arm, goosebumps appearing in their wake.

“Oh, yeah.”

“From those breathy, _needy_ sounds you make. From the responses my touch provokes. To put it simply, from you, my dear.”

Sansa turned in his arms – as soon as Tywin realized what she was doing, he released his hold and met her sparkling gaze with eyes lit up with desire. It made the green in them stand out more, turning them into pools of smoldering wildfire and molten gold.

“How long do we have to stay here, exactly?” she asked him.

“Tired of my company already?” Tywin smirked and placed his hand at the back of her neck, tilting her head upwards, his thumb caressing Sansa’s cheek. He started to lean closer and Sansa got a distinct feeling that she was about to get her answers.

Her heart stuttered to a stop and she couldn’t breathe, her eyes fluttered, closing and her lips parted. Tywin’s breath ghosted over her skin and Sansa trembled in anticipation. Leaning up, bracing herself against his chest, she wished to prolong the moment of sweet torture and at the same time, she couldn’t wait to feel his lips on hers.

But Tywin suddenly took both of her hands in his and urged her to follow him.

Sansa stumbled slightly and opened her eyes, confused, and let him lead her to the dance floor.

“What’s happening?” she asked sharply. The expression on his face was annoyed and she didn’t like that. Sansa was sure that she hadn’t done anything to warrant such a look and that it was not directed at her. She tried to look around them to see what was wrong, but Tywin hurried their pace and deftly maneuvered them through the throng of couples.

It was in a darkened corner of the dance floor where he finally stopped, abruptly turned her to face him and placed his hands at her waist. “Dance with me.”

Perturbed, Sansa obliged and wound her arms around his neck, searching his face in the dimmed lights. He was tense and kept glancing over her shoulder, not meeting her eyes. There was a tightness around his eyes and his jaw was set. All in all, Sansa didn’t doubt that she was very close to hear a lion roar in annoyance pretty soon.

“Who was that?” she asked calmly and placed her hand against his cheek. Tywin was startled by the gesture and looked down at her. His eyes softened – but only marginally – and he opened his mouth to reply. Then he snapped it shut, swiftly turned them, hunching his broad shoulders slightly, and lowered his head next to hers, hiding the distinct color of his hair.

With their position reversed, she caught a glimpse of what he had seen and cursed under her breath. Uncle Robert stood there, his face glowing red. He looked like a very unhappy cloud of unrestrained fury but even Robert paled in comparison to his wife. Cersei Baratheon stood next to her husband, eyes narrowed, cheeks tinted red, searching the crowd like a lioness stalking her prey.

Sansa did not look forward to meeting the two of them. Uncle Robert was prone to causing scenes – and so was his wife. Both looked like they were itching to make one.

She wanted to say as much to Tywin but then her uncle was joined by Sansa’s parents and she momentarily had to close her eyes at the sight. All four of them were searching the large open space for someone and it didn’t take a genius to figure out who could it possibly be. 

She had not been afraid, exactly, to appear with Tywin Lannister at the party. Her father wouldn’t make a scene – and neither would her mother. The family reputation was important for the Starks just as it was for Tywin. Ned Stark would just quietly let them know his opinion on the matter, leaving the whole discussion for later, but…

“Oh my gods, they teamed up!” she whispered, horrified.

Tywin expertly turned them again to assess the situation. Then he let out an irritated hum.

“So they did,” Tywin growled, backing them further into the shadows. “Your father is a level-headed man and I have no qualms in meeting him with you on my arm, but having my daughter and that oaf present as well would make the conversation decidedly less sedate.”

“It seems they haven’t noticed us yet.”

“It’s only a matter of time, though. Are you ready for round two?” His lips twitched and he raised his eyebrow at her. Having his face so close and at the same level was quite nice and Sansa decided she liked his eyes from up this close. She liked his closeness in general and she would like a little more privacy to explore what more she would like about him.

Before, she had always hated the presumptions of her dates that they would end up in bed together at the end of the night. Now, feeling the electricity of their touches, this insane magnetic pull, a bed with Tywin Lannister in it sounded like a splendid idea. What was the man doing to her? Destroying every rule she had had in place, battering at her self-control and determination so effortlessly… making her think about falling in love again.

Sansa was quite shocked to realize that she would kill for that kiss and she would very much prefer it to be without paparazzi and any interruption. The only question that remained now was – how she could possibly get it?

***

Tywin was inwardly bracing himself for round two. This time, his opponent wouldn’t be an old busybody like Olenna Tyrell. No, this time he would have to put in place his own daughter and that oaf she had married, while at the same time trying not to antagonize too much the father of the woman who was currently so comfortable in Tywin’s arms.

Sansa was looking at him with sparkling eyes and he could see in those sapphire depths that he wasn’t the only one irritated by the constant interruption to their evening. He couldn’t remember a time when he felt such a thrill of excitement at the mere thought of what his touch could do to a woman.

For a girl who was uninterested in dating, Sansa Stark was quite feisty and liked every second of their little games. Then again, it was her fire that had caught his attention in the first place and made Tywin reconsider his own opinion on taking a lover, on dating, on a relationship. 

He hadn’t been surprised when she had played along, though Tywin doubted Sansa had suspected the reasons behind his actions. They had been subjected to curious stares all night. That alone was bound to give life to some juicy rumors – but his open display of possessiveness in front of Olenna had sealed the deal. He honestly had no idea what the hell he was doing, Tywin had just followed his instincts most of the evening. His intuition had never steered him wrong and he trusted himself not to screw up.

Tywin didn’t doubt that he was going to read in tomorrow’s gossip columns how smitten he is with his young lover. As long as the articles wouldn’t be too offensive, he was able to live with them. It was an opportunity the businessman in him couldn’t let slip through his fingers. Every time his name appeared in the press, it caught the attention – a free advertisement, so to speak. As long as he and Sansa were featured in the press as a couple obviously very much wrapped in each other, it would reflect positively on him and subsequently on his company.

If Tywin would discover that they are not so compatible after all, Sansa was mature and intelligent enough to end things quietly. She wasn’t keen to drag their names through the dirt any more than he was.

Their pictures all over the front pages, proclaiming them to be an item also removed the hassle of actually having to deal with the need of telling their respective families about them. Tywin was certain that the murderous look in Cersei’s eyes indicated that she had gotten the right idea. Whether or not his daughter approved was irrelevant. He had not supported her wish to marry Robert and yet she had done so. He could also care less about Ned Stark’s blessing, though he had a feeling Sansa might disagree with him.

The Starks were notoriously loyal to each other, so Tywin would need to tread carefully. That’s why he sure as hell did not want to confront both their families at once.

“I don’t feel like dealing with more drama tonight, Tywin,” she whispered softly and rested her cheek next to his, pressing closer. The song was a slow one, and he held her tightly, confident that the dimmed lights provided them with enough protection from prying eyes.

The third reason why he had acted like a hormonal teenager who was unable to keep his hands to himself was a simple fact that he had wanted to. Having Sansa close to him was a novel feeling and he enjoyed both the sensation of Sansa’s body pressed against his and her reactions to his proximity. 

The last woman Tywin had danced with to a slow song and held her so tenderly had been Cersei at her wedding. He had disapproved of her choice of husband, but he loved his daughter despite her many faults and their many disagreements. It had been a special moment between father and daughter.

Just like this was another special moment. The beginning of something, Tywin felt, and it filled him with hope and exhilaration. A relationship – he wasn’t going to call the thing between them an affair – was something he had not been used to. It wouldn’t be easy, he suspected, but he was certain it was going to be worth it. He hadn’t had a lover in quite some time, let alone one who brought all these impulses back to life in him. It was disconcerting, really, but Tywin relished in the newly discovered feelings of being alert and alive it brought with it.

“What would my little wolf wish to do, then?”

“Dancing is nice,” she replied, resting her head on his shoulder now. “But we could disappear after this song. I noticed there’s an emergency exit right there in the corner.”

As his lips brushed Sansa’s forehead, he noticed the small content smile that graced her mouth. One of his arms stayed at her waist while the other wrapped around her shoulders, holding her securely against him.

“Sneaking away like naughty children?”

“Bowing out gracefully… And if you happen to catch a glimpse of a broom closet along the way, I might not object to a short stop.”

Her cheeky words forced a huff of laughter out of him. Tywin smirked and raised his eyebrow, momentarily straightening so he could look at her fully. “Is that so?”

“I wonder if those wandering hands of yours would feel even better without any fabric getting in the way.” Sansa gave him a wicked smile in return and Tywin felt his blood heat at the image she conjured. The smooth, pale skin of her abdomen on display for him – and only him – just waiting to be touched. The long column of her neck begging to be kissed and teased by his lips and gently scratched by his teeth. No one to bother them, no one to interrupt them. Beard burn everywhere. 

“I’m all in for trying new things, but I believe we can do without the confined dusty space of a broom closet,” he rumbled, glancing at her lips and observing with a smirk as the tip of her tongue darted out. “We can’t do without a large bed and good lighting, though.”

“Oh, really?” Sansa tilted her head up challengingly even as a slight blush tinted her cheeks.

“Yes.” Tywin focused on her mouth, those full lips so close to him. He had wondered what it would feel like to kiss her and he decided that he was not going to wonder any longer. He was the kind of man who did everything in his power to get what he wanted. Right now, he wanted to kiss this alluring creature and ravish her. He had a feeling there wouldn’t be any objections at all.

“I want to discover how far that fetching blush will reach. It will require dedicated research and good lighting is crucial to it. I want to see the goosebumps on your skin, I want to see your body flushed and glistening in perspiration from all the things I will do to you.”

Sansa was breathing irregularly, her pupils were blown wide and sparks of passion danced in her eyes. “I reserve the right to conduct my own research.”

“Oh?” He lowered his head a fraction closer and was delighted to notice how Sansa leaned up, her hands braced against his shoulders now. She wouldn’t back down easily, would she? She was going to meet every challenge he presented her head-on. He liked that, looked forward to that. “What will be the focus of your study?”

Sansa’s answer was breathy and soft and her tone serious but the look in her eyes was both playful and sincere at once. “I am most curious if you are ticklish.”

“I am not,” Tywin reassured her. “Is that _all_ you wonder about me?”

Her gaze traveled from his eyes down to his lips and then to his chest. Sansa traced then the collar of his dress shirt, one of her fingers playing with his bowtie. “I wonder if you are the kind of man who undresses himself or if you’d let me help you.”

“How will you do that?” he asked, digging his fingers into the supple flesh of her back, resigned that the kiss will have to wait for a more fortunate moment. There weren’t any doubts in his mind that they would live through that scenario and he would get the kiss, eventually. If not tonight, then very soon.

“Well, if the opportunity arose… first would be the jacket, closely followed by the vest. They would end up on the floor,” she said, a bright smile momentarily lighting up her face as she smoothed her palms over the lapels. Tywin grinned as she purposefully played coy. “Then the cufflinks, I’d remove them carefully, placing them on the nightstand. We wouldn’t want to lose them, would we?”

Tywin inclined his head silently and decided not to tell her that his cufflinks were irrelevant. Sansa could have thrown them out of the window for all he cared, as long as the objective of losing the shirt was achieved.

“This would come next,” she continued, pausing briefly to wet her dry lips and touch the bowtie again. Then she winked at him, fire in her eyes. “I’d keep it close to bed… one never knows when a makeshift blindfold could come handy.”

He smirked, thinking that perhaps the idea of binding Sansa’s hands with his bowtie would be met with approval. “So, what is left, then, my little wolf?”

“I’d leave getting out of your shoes and socks to you, my dear lion,” she told him. “Then, there would be the shirt itself. I’d take extra care of undoing each of the buttons slowly and then…”

“And then?”

Sansa flushed and swallowed, a secretive small smile playing at the corners of her lips. She met his eyes boldly and her smile widened. “I wouldn’t mind getting a taste of your skin. Maybe I’d discover if your chest hair is as scratchy as your stubble.”

“You’ll get distracted by that, won’t you?” Tywin suppressed a laugh and swayed them around, almost lifting Sansa into the air with the motion.

“You would like that distraction.”

“But you’ll get to the task at hand.”

“Eventually,” Sansa agreed, her hand skimming down and down to tug at his vest and she smiled up at him wolfishly. “Now, where was I?”

“You were just getting to the most interesting part, my dear.”

“How forgetful of me.”

“I’ll keep you on the right track.”

They smiled at each other. Tywin wasn’t sure he had smiled like that at another human being in the last two decades. He was almost certain that no one had looked like that at him for that matter. Sansa’s expression was a mixture of softness and warmth and mischief and burning heat and lightness.

This could be so much more than a mere attraction – he had known that perhaps from the very first moment Sansa Stark had mouthed back at him. “How about you? Are you letting me help you get out of that dress?”

“You don’t like the dress?” Sansa grinned up at him.

Tywin lowered his head down and growled, “I will like them better pooled on the floor next to my tux.”

She inhaled sharply and bit her lower lip. The song changed to a waltz and while Tywin would be happy to waltz with Sansa at a later date, he was in no mood to assume a proper dancing stance and allow for their families to discover them. “I believe this is our clue to leave.”

“Yes,” she agreed with a small smile. “Let’s get out of here.”

Tywin nodded, took her hand in his, and deftly maneuvered them to the exit door just as Catelyn Stark’s voice rang loudly behind them, “Sansa! Sansa, wait!”

Sansa let out a pearl of laughter as they slipped through the heavy door and they closed behind them with a heavy thud, silencing the voices of her parents calling after her.

“Oh, gods, they’ve found us. Hurry!” She slipped the high heels off her feet, clutched them in one hand, and then grabbed Tywin’s. It was Sansa who took the lead now as they made their escape down the backstairs and into the underground garage. Somewhere above them, the door banged open loudly.

“Father? Father!” called out Cersei. Tywin wasn’t going to answer, though – he was too busy suppressing a laugh at the sight of Sansa without her shoes on running around the garage, tugging him along as if he was one of her young boys. At that moment, he did feel much younger and naughty and carefree.

His driver was dozing off in the front seat when they reached the car.

“Get us out of here, quickly!” he snapped at him, opening the door for Sansa. She slipped inside and he followed. The moment they were seated, the car started to move and sped around the various reporters lurking around the way out.

There was, predictably, a storm of flashes and Tywin let out an irritated sigh as he shook his head. What, exactly, did they expect to see through the tinted windows? Turning his attention to a much more pleasurable sight, he leaned back in his seat to bask in the warmth of his success. Yes, he felt rather proud of the fact that he had snatched such a woman for himself right under the noses of those young pups. While he didn’t consider himself old quite yet, he wasn’t a young man anymore and he was somewhat rusty at all things connected to wooing beautiful women.

Or perhaps not. Sansa certainly hadn’t issued any complaints. He knew that he had treated her to her maximum satisfaction the whole evening, and that was the only thing that mattered. Tywin was going to make sure that Sansa wouldn’t have a reason to complain in the future either.

“What?” Sansa asked when she noticed his gaze. She had let go of her shoes and was currently inspecting the damage done to her stockings. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes danced with mirth. Unfortunately, the flush had nothing to do with him or his words this time – and it was something Tywin was keen to remedy.

He moved closer and placed his much larger hand over hers.

“Allow me,” he rumbled and proceeded to peel off the stocking on her left leg. Without looking up at the woman, he repeated the same with the one on her right leg and then unhurriedly caressed the silky skin he had revealed. Moving closer, Tywin parted her knees and with his head lowered, his lips followed the path his palms had just taken, kissing the most sensitive spots of Sansa’s calves and inner thighs.

A shiver ran through Sansa’s body and he stilled. Smiling against her knee, Tywin finally raised his eyes to meet her gaze. He made sure to lightly tickle her with his stubble, grinning roguishly. “Nice, hm?”

“So, so nice.” Sansa’s darkened eyes were focused solely on Tywin, her lips were slightly parted as she observed him resting between her legs. Then she smiled, her eyes narrowing, lighting up with something deliciously predatory. If he was one of her boys, Tywin mused, he would have been rendered speechless and breathless at the sight of her awakening desire. No longer restrained by their surroundings, he pounced and captured those smirking lips with his own.

His action earned him a startled gasp and then a burst of soft laughter and then, finally, a proper kiss as first her lips and then her tongue moved in sync with his. Her lips were soft, her lipstick tasted faintly of lemons and her mouth of expensive champagne.

Being the gentleman Tywin was, he took it upon himself to keep her warm on this cold December evening and promptly covered her body with his. Sansa was most obliging and mussed up his hair, scraping the back of his head with her fingernails without breaking the long, slow, sensual kiss. Tywin then kept her head in place with one of his hands while supporting his weight with the other. He then proceeded to scratch the hollow of her throat and her collarbones – first with his stubble, then with his teeth – before he tasted the delicate, flushed skin. He would have gone lower but Sansa’s dress had gotten in the way.

Tywin leaned slightly back, observing his achievement proudly. “Beautiful.”

It appeared that he had reduced Sansa to a quivering mess, dizzy with want. Her lipstick was smudged around her lips – it had made its way to half of his face as well undoubtedly – and traces of red trailed down her neck as well. Strands of her fiery hair escaped the hairdo and Tywin was certain it would look much better spread over the pillows of his bed.

Hooded, burning eyes blinked up at him lazily, a grin curving her lips.

Smirking as well, he caressed her cheek. He undeniably looked a mess as well.

“Where to, my little wolf?” he asked, his voice deep and velvety. Tywin would love to keep her to himself for the rest of the night but he had promised her something long before their relationship had escalated. He rarely gave his word but when he did, he wasn’t one for breaking it.

Sansa seemed to shake off some of her wooziness and focused on him. Then she picked herself up from the seat and sat properly, tugging her dress in place as much as she could, clearing her throat.

For a moment, Tywin was expecting her to say that she wanted to return to her apartment. He straightened as well. It was disappointing, of course, but there was always tomorrow to look forward to. He was hardly an impatient cub, he could wait and bide his time. Tywin believed that his victory would taste even sweeter when he would finally conquer the last of Sansa’s defenses.

She reached for his hand and he allowed her to take it. For a second, she observed it, and then she carefully removed the cufflink. Raising her eyes to meet his, she whispered, “We wouldn’t want to lose them, would we?”

“Of course.” Tywin returned her smile – not a smirk, not a grin but something soft and warm – and offered her his other hand. Sansa skillfully removed the second cufflink and placed them both into her purse. With her task done, she slid on the seat closer to him, snuggling against his side.

“That’s one thing taken care of. What’s left? Oh, right.” Kissing him lightly, her fingers started expertly undoing the buttons on his vest and Tywin wrapped his arms around her back.

“You must forgive me if I forget where we left off again,” she whispered against his lips, smiling.

“Don’t you worry, little wolf, I won’t let you get _too_ distracted,” he promised and nimbly unclasped her necklace, letting the gold and jade slip down from her neck and into his waiting palm. He placed it next to her purse and nuzzled Sansa’s hair, his fingers skimming down the zip at her back. Tywin didn’t open it just yet – he just tugged at it, grinning to himself. He would enjoy unfastening it so very slowly and then slipping the dress down her body with even more care. He did think that the dress would look much better pooled on the floor of his bedroom, right next to his discarded dress shirt. They were going to keep the bowtie close, though, that had already been decided.

He wasn’t about to call it love, it was too early for that and the heady mix of emotions was hard to place correctly… but he was open to the idea of _building_ their fire into something like love gradually. Old tomcat or not, Tywin knew his own mind and he had no need to imagine how easy it could be to fall for Sansa if he wasn’t careful. He had been cautious for most of his life and perhaps this time, he could make an exception and shove his logical thinking into the back of his mind.

Just feel, make love, and bring Sansa to the brink of heaven tonight – over and over again – and worry about placing any labels on their relationship tomorrow.

Yes, he liked the idea. Tywin sighed in satisfaction as he held Sansa close. He buried his nose in her hair and breathed in the sweet smell of her perfume and the even sweeter fragrance that was purely Sansa. The streets of King’s Landing were deserted at this time of the night and a thin layer of snow covered everything. Watching the passing lights as the car sped through the cold, Tywin wondered what the future held with his heart strangely light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my, is it just me, or is unusually hot here? *fans herself* So, I suppose that my quick Christmas fluff kind of evolved into something else entirely *grins* This monster has more than 30 pages in total and there’s not even a trace of Christmassy stuff in it, is there?  
> Wow, I can’t believe I actually finished this story. Writing something this long in one go was impossible and I spent a lot of time just making sure I wasn’t repeating myself. Posting it in shorter parts felt like the story would lose its momentum, so here we are. What do you think? Was the wait worth it? *winks*  
> Lots of love, Mage :)

**Author's Note:**

> Let the games begin! I swear, these specials are getting longer and longer *sighs* I hope you don’t mind. So, this is the last of my surprises for you and as I already said, I hope to have the whole series finished before the month is over. Then I’m getting back to the rest of my WIP. Thank you for your patience.  
> Also, you probably noticed that I did it again – I can’t help it, Sansa/Tywin banter is so much fun… Thanks for reading, don’t forget I love you all and let me know what you think about Tywin’s intentions *winks* How could this possibly end? Is it gonna backfire? Well *grins*
> 
> Next time in All I Want: A Christmas party, oh my!  
> Next in the series: Chapter two of Jingle Bells


End file.
